


On The Run

by Kiyuo_Honoo



Series: On the Run [2]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Minor Violence, Non-Graphic Violence, Transformer Sparklings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-22
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-02-17 21:27:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 13,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21516781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiyuo_Honoo/pseuds/Kiyuo_Honoo
Summary: A young Flyhigh escapes Vos with a seekerling as the city falls.
Relationships: Hot Rod & Misfire, Hot Rod & Wreckers
Series: On the Run [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1854046
Comments: 22
Kudos: 89





	1. Chapter 1

Flyhigh shivered as he held the sparkling close to his chassis, his steps were quick as he hurried away from the gunfire toward one of the underground pathways their kind has kept secret. All he had to do was get there and head down to where the escape ships were and board one to get out of Vos. He wasn’t safe, Thundercracker’s  _ sparkling _ wasn’t safe. And he was determined to get the small thing to safety. He had too.

The ground shook as the young purple seeker bolted across a street filled with rubble and the slowly crumbling remains of the towers once stood high and proud in their home. A home that the little one in his arms will never know of. Of fellow seekers, he’ll never be inducted and introduced to. It hurt his spark to know that the last thing the sparkling would see is the decimated remains of their once-proud city.

Flyhigh quickly ducked behind a crumbled wall, ducking low enough to fit under the slab of rubble as sirens sounded by him. His grip tightened, a hand going over the sparklings mouth to keep him quiet. Grounders were already in the city. And that was  _ terrible _ news. If they were found — a shiver passed through his frame and caused his plating to rattle slightly. Who knows what they would do to them. He had to get to the ships before they were caught.

He couldn’t let Thundercracker’s trust in him fail if he failed to protect his sparkling.

Once the noise was far off and only the sound of crumbling buildings echoed around, Flyhigh shot out from his hiding place and sprinted to the hidden entrance. A quick glance showered no bot around, and he was quick to open it just enough to slide in sideways before slamming the door shut. Securing the thankfully still working locks, Flyhigh took off quickly down the hall, stumbling as the ground shook from more bombs hitting the buildings and ground above.

He slid into the bay, spotting the multiple ships, and oh Primus. None were missing, no other seeker had made it down. Flyhigh whimpered as he tightened his grip on the sparkling before bolting over to one of the ships and activating the door. He was quick to enter and activate the start-up sequence before heading toward the back to lay the somehow still dozing sparkling on the single berth. Pulling the mesh sheet over him and bundling it around so he didn’t fall off, Flyhigh bolted back out of the ship and headed toward where supplies were stashed.

Grabbing a case modified like a subspace, he threw as many energon cubes as he could in, snatching mesh clothes and blankets along with first aid supplies. Stuffing what he could in, Flyhigh snapped it closed and bolted back to the ship. Slamming the door controls close he threw the case off to the side and started the flight sequence. A hidden door started sliding open on the other side, the dark of open space greeting his optics.

With a shaky breath, he pulled the handle and activated the thrusters. Grabbing the handles, Flyhigh slammed them forward causing the ship to lurch and shoot forward toward the still opening doors. He slammed a button, causing the doors to stall before starting to slowly close.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ope, another chapter. Not sure how long I want this thing to be but I plan on making it kinda long with chapters under 1k.

Flyhigh stared around at the city he had wandered into. It looked like it was falling apart. He could see the traces of the city once having been glittering just like Vos before it fell. He held Morning Sky closer as he walked through the streets, optics carefully watching the mechs they passed. The purple youngling hunched over the seekerling in his arms, keeping his wings down and pressed to his back to keep the mechs from deciding they were worth attacking.

He wasn’t looking for a fight. He just wanted someplace they could be _safe_.

“Hey, mech.”

Flyhigh jumped, wings snapping up at the same time as his helm, to the mech standing in front of him. His arms tightened around Morning Sky, the seekerling letting out a few soft noises as he shifted in his arms. The youngling inched backward as he stared at the mech, taking in the dull yellow plating with rust spots covering the mech as they tilted their helm and took them in.

“What’re you doing in this part of the city? And with a sparkling too?” The mech clucked his glossa and motioned as he turned, “Come with me, it’s not a good idea for you two to be out this late, don’t want you two getting picked off now.”

Wings twitching, Flyhigh followed in caution, glancing down as Morning Sky shifted and chirped up at him. He looked down and smiled at the slowly blinking seekerling, cooing as Morning Sky woke from his nap.

He followed the mech a good distance before he was led into a depilated building where other mechs that appeared just as badly maintenance were milling around. The mech turned and smiled, a flash of broken denta showing as he swept his arm around the room.

“Alright young ones, you’ll be safe here, it’s not much and we’re not the best off but this place is safe. We’ll help watch over you.”

Flyhigh’s wings vibrated against his back as he took in the mechs again, coolant filling his optics at even the thought of _safety_. He hasn’t felt safe since they escaped Vos, not with the Senate ships patrolling the area and almost catching them multiple times.

His vocalizer spit static as he spoke, “H-how do you know I’m young?”

“You’re small for one of our kind youngling. We ain’t that small unless we young and you dear, are a young one.”

Wings snapping up again and fluttering, Flyhigh’s optics brightened as he took in the massive mech walking toward them, not mech. _Seeker._ His wings fell as a whine left his vocalizer, optics on the destroyed wings hanging from the large mech’s back. The dull green seeker just walked up and rubbed his helm.

“It’s alright young one, these wings haven’t been good for a long time. I can still get into the sky for a bit. Ain’t going crazy yet.” The seeker nodded at the mech that had brought them in, wrapping an arm around Flyhigh’s shoulders and guiding him deeper into the building.

“Name’s Mosspit, I’m claiming you two under my care. What’s your name’s youngling?”

“Flyhigh, and this is Morning Sky.”

Mosspit grinned at them, “Nice ta meet ya youngin’s. Now let me tell ya about Nyon.”

Flyhigh listened to Mosspit as he regaled them with the tale of Nyon and it’s fall. A tale that Morning Sky wouldn’t remember as he was too young for his processor to have enough branches to take in the information. And he had fallen back into recharge fairly quickly.

Nyon was their home now. At least until the Senate finished their destruction of this once glowing city.


	3. Chapter 3

Life in Nyon was hard, but living in the lower caste in Vos was just as difficult. And Flyhigh fell back on that knowledge and experience to survive in the once gleaming city. Mosspit was a caring seeker, and he learned that the green seeker was a carrier, so taking them under his wings was a simple and easy task. He still left most of the handling of Morning Sky to him, as he was the one trusted with the seekerling’s well being and care.

It sure didn’t stop Mosspit from caring for him.

It was nice being around another seeker after so long even though he wasn’t able to join him in the sky for long, but it was better than being surrounded by so many grounders who didn’t fully understand how seeker, much less, flight frames worked. He occasionally caught the old seeker staring at Morning Sky, optics narrowed as the seekerling chittered and toddled along around a small area Flyhigh allowed him in.

Mosspit wasn’t even the one to say anything when Morning Sky’s colors started to change.

It was one of the other mechs, an old racer who’s frame was old and rusted to even take to the track a distance outside the city. He had been watching them one day, optics tracking Morning Sky was he toddled around in circles and chirred to himself.

“You say that yougin’s a seeker? Those ain’t no wings mech. Those are a racers tail fins, and I know. Seen a few mechs with such adornments before.”

Mosspit just looked over at the old racer with a snort, his engine making sputtering noises as it tried to growl threateningly, “Ah, sush it Quicker. The bab’s carrier was a seeker, no way ‘e’s anything but one.”

Quicker’s optics flickered in a roll, the burnt orange racer just scoffing. “Mark my words ‘pit, that ain’t no flier. Those things ain’t gonna get the kid off the ground. And they placed too high for a flier. But they perfect for a racer, ‘hat kid’s gonna be a racer. Just you watch.” Quicker stared Mosspit down a few more kliks before standing and limping away.

Flyhigh looked between the two older mechs before turning his attention to his charge. Taking in the way the wings actually looked on the bab’s frame. Doubt filled his processor. Was Quicker right? Was Morning Sky not a seeker? If so, then what frame type was his sire to override the strong coding that seekers had?

Shaking his helm, Mosspit moved closer to his charges and rubbed his hand over Flyhigh’s helm with a rumble, “Don’t worry about Flyhigh, Quicker don’t know what he’s talking ‘bout sometimes.”

Unfortunately, that wasn’t the only time Quicker made his thoughts and opinions about Morning Sky known to the two seekers.

“Why the frag the kid changing colors?” Quicker stared down at Morning Sky, the blue and purple colors marred by splotches of magenta and orange.

Morning Sky just chirped up at the old racer, processor still unable to fully understand what older mechs were saying. Flyhigh grabbed his charge from the ground and held him close, optics narrowed as he shifted to hide behind Mosspit. The older seeker crossed his arms and glared at Quicker.

“It ain’t that unusual for a mech ta change colors while they age Quicker. Now stop being a pain, ya gonna upset Flyhigh with that slag spilling from your intake.”

Quicker sneered, flashing broken denta before he turned and walked away without a word.

Mosspit just shook his head, Flyhigh looking up at him with worry etched on his faceplates.

“It okay kid, it’s normal. Some mechs ain’t born with their colors at first, why, I was almost white when I was growin’ up.”

Flyhigh just frowned, holding Morning Sky close as he took in the splotches of brighter color slowly overtaking the blue and purple he had emerged with.


	4. Chapter 4

“Moss moss moss. Fly fly fly.” Morning Sky chirped as he toddled quickly after Flyhigh and Mosspit. Flyhigh had grown over the vorns, almost to height with Mosspit now and Morning Sky now reached both seekers knees. The youngster now able to walk on his own and follow the two a short distance before whining to get picked up.

By now his once blue and purple nanites had been taken over by the magenta and orange that had been eating its way across his frame. The only thing still his original colors was his wings and helm adornment. The dark purple juvenile had to admit at this point that his wings probably weren’t wings at all.

They were too sharply angled. Nothing like the wide and proud wingspan a seeker boasted. They weren’t even doorwings like the Praxians were known for. Even Mosspit was hesitant to label him a racer, just like Quicker had always called him.

Flyhigh sometimes wished Quicker was still around, but the mech had disappeared vorns ago. No trace of the old racer had been seen. Many of the street urchins had started to blame Zeta Prime for the disappearances of many mechs. Mosspit was wary to start throwing blame around incase it singled them out even more than just being two seekers.

The older mech always made sure they were hidden when enforcers were roaming the area, not wanting to chance them getting snatched up, especially little Morning Sky who was still young enough to be influenced by others.

As of now, they were walking through one of the many safe places as Mosspit spoke to some of the mechs. What Flyhigh could catch did not sound good. At all. Talk of the senate, of Zeta Prime snatching mechs off the street and _draining them_ of their energon. It was horrible talk, one that had the older seeker’s plating ruffling at each account he got from his fellows.

The young seeker was glad that Morning Sky didn’t understand enough to know what was going on. He didn’t want to scare him.

It wasn’t long until Mosspit turned and started heading back to the entrance, Flyhigh quickly snatched Morning Sky from the ground and sped up to catch up with the agitated seeker. He kept a decent distance from the older flier, wrapping his field around Morning Sky in an attempt to keep Mosspit’s lashing field from causing the younger any distress.

“Mosspit?” Flyhigh kept his voice quiet, optics carefully watching the agitated movements of the green mechs. Silence was his answer. Hefting Morning Sky high in his grip he continued to follow, optics flickering to the mechs they passed on the way to their home.

They slipped in, the mechs that shared the space looking up at their entrance. None dared to stop them on their path to their spot.

Flyhigh hurried past Mosspit and sat against the wall, wings twitching as the older seeker’s frame shadowed his. The two sat there in silence before vent’s rattled as Mosspit let out a gust of stale air.

“Nyon’s going to become a war zone.” Weary, pale orange optics locked with his. “Zeta Prime is killing us off. There’s already a plan in motion,” Vents rattled again, “but it’s gonna destroy us all.”

He could only stare with blown and bleached optics at Mosspit, his grip tightening on the seekerling in his arms at the words. He tried to speak but static was all that erupted from his vocalizer before it trailed off into a high keen. He fell forward, curling around Morning Sky as Mosspit curled around him and held them tight.


	5. Chapter 5

From there the rebellion practically dissolved into chaos. Mosspit, as one of the leaders of the rebellion, quickly became a part of the head of the operations for their new plan against Zeta Prime.

A plan consisting of setting bombs all over Nyon.

They were going to destroy their home and most likely themselves to _save_ themselves from being drained for Zeta Prime’s weapons. Especially as mechs continued to disappear. The reservoirs they were being drained into had been found, and one of the courses of action was upsetting. A mech who could stand to see the drained frames would have to enact and force some of Zeta Prime’s own mechs to see the truth.

Those part of the rebellion were given bombs with instructions to set them up at base level; inside where they couldn’t be seen, and on weak structure points, so that the explosions would topple the buildings. Blocking paths everywhere for those moving by wheels or peds. Wanting to be useful, Flyhigh was tasked with setting up bombs high above. He set the bombs up on top of buildings and towers and anywhere that was a fliers domain and could topple down to destroy anything that was flying low. Or a large enough mech that towered that high.

Only a few detonators were made and given to certain mechs that would press the button when there was no other chance of survival.

Everyone in Nyon knew death was imminent.

Throughout what would be their last act in the long-standing rebellion, Mosspit kept trying to convince Flyhigh to take Morning Sky and _leave_. To get out of Nyon while he still could. But Flyhigh didn’t want to, he couldn’t leave the mech that took them in and cared for them. He just couldn’t.

Even when he knew Mosspit was one of the few who had the detonator and could be the one to set it off.

Flyhigh swooped around in the sky, slowing as he transformed and landed next to Mosspit. Morning Sky’s soft venting filled the silence between them as they stared out over Nyon, their optics taking in the sight of their home. In the far distance, they could see armies of mechs making their way to the city.

“They senates force and the rebels are makin’ their way here. Zeta Prime’s gonna make his move soon, especially if the leader of that rebel force is going ta be one of ‘em steppin’ a ped here.”

He slid close, pressing himself against the greying frame. The young seeker knew that even if some of them survived Mosspit would not be one of them. He was already dying, his dull green plating already had splotches of gray where systems were starting to fail.

Even now, his wing hinges were already gray and it was slowly creeping up his wings.

Mosspit had completely lost the ability to fly.

Mosspit shifted his grip on Morning Sky so he could wrap an arm around Flyhigh, pressing the youngster closer to his side as they continued to stare out as the sky grew darker.

As the shine of distant stars lit up the sky, a kiss was pressed to Flyhigh’s helm, “Keep Morning Sky safe. I’ll be leading the senate’s mechs to the reservoirs.”

The young seeker turned and wrapped his arms around his caretaker, optics offline as fluid started to fill them.

He just knew this was going to be the last night all three of them would be together.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you guys still like this ~~me~~? OwO

It worked. To an extent. Either way, Mosspit had managed to lead the senate’s mechs to the reservoirs, he didn’t stick around to see what their plan of action was afterward. He had to find his charges and try to get them _out_ before he blew Nyon up.

The senate’s mechs wouldn’t do anything to save them and there was no time to get anyone out.

Nyon would go up in flames and he would go with it.

Mosspit ran as fast as his legs could carry him through the destruction already blocking his path as he made his way to where he had left the two younglings. Hoping they would still be there and not run somewhere else. He had ordered Flyhigh to only run if mechs that weren’t him or fellow Nyonian’s came around.

The ground rumbled, causing Mosspit to stumble to a stop. He grint his broken denta, ignoring the pain that shot through his mouth as he looked up to see the towering weapons of Zeta Prime’s making their way into the city.

The city’s doom has finally arrived. His failing engine stuttered in a growl as he turned and started up a fast pace again. Grunting as a joint in his leg creaked and shifted out of place.

_‘Please don’t let my frame fail now.’_

Flyhigh clutched Morning Sky to his chest, optics burning bright as he watched the peds moving around in front of their hiding place. None of the peds belonged to Mosspit, none of them were gray and rusting away. The youngster kept a digit pressed between the seekerling’s teeth in an effort to keep him quiet. The mechs walking around were loud and sounded _mean_.

He didn’t want them to find them.

Dragging his optics away from the peds outside, Flyhigh rapidly looked around. He had to find a small hiding place for Morning Sky, as long as he hid him, he’d be safe. A loud noise close to the hole hiding them had Flyhigh biting his bottom lip as his optics moved faster. There! The youngling twisted and quietly maneuvered himself over to a small hole that was just big enough to hide Morning Sky in.

He pulled his digit from the distressed seekerling’s mouth, shushing him as he put Morning Sky down and pushed him toward the hole. A whimper left the small frame as tiny, still blue, wings shivered. Flyhigh leaned down and pressed a kiss against the blue helm adornment before shoving him toward the hole again. Morning Sky let out a hiccup but crawled into the small space.

And just in time.

The rubble hiding them shifted and light spilled into the area. Flyhigh spun around, denta bared at the mechs moving the pieces off. The mechs stared before one offered a hand. Flyhigh’s denta hid even as his engine still continued growling as he stared up at the large mech.

He took the hand.

A loud wail escaped Morning Sky as he caught sight of Mosspit. He struggled out of the hole he was hidden in and crawled over, letting out as many distressed noises as loud as he could. He hiccuped as Mosspit quickly made his way over and picked him up.

Mosspit made shushing sounds as he looked around for the purple plating of Flyhigh. His already failing wings dropped, a grunt leaving his vocalizer as one fell farther down and pulled at the hinge.

Frag, he wasn’t going to hold up for much longer. The failing seeker gripped the seekerling tightly as he pulled the detonator from his subspace. There was no way he was going to be able to find a mech to take Morning Sky. Much less one that would take him out of here and somewhere safer.

The groaning of metal from Mosspit, his thumb hovering over the button, as he slowly looked up to see the building above them start shifting on its structure. He spun on his thruster, ignoring the pain as the weakened metal collapsed and broke at the movement, and bolted.

He didn’t make it far before having to dive to the ground, curling around Morning Sky as the seekerling let out a sharp scream. He didn’t even register the pain as falling pieces slammed into him. Morning Sky’s scream the last thing he heard as a large piece of rubble smashed into his helm.

Loud keens warbled from Morning Sky’s vocalizer as he shook Mosspit to no avail. The mech was gone. His frame fully gray and optics dark as energon pooled around his frame from the rubble that had fallen on him. The energon that had splattered from the shattered plating had sprayed Morning Sky’s faceplate, leaving him with pink splatters dripping off his chin with the fluid pouring from his optics.

A soft ting of metal hitting the ground grabbed the youngling’s attention. He turned, optics going to the detonator that had slipped from Mosspit’s lack grip. Engine hiccuping, he turned and crawled over to the device, picking up in his small hands. He stared at it, only breaking away his gaze to look out through the hole where he was trapped as screaming and gunfire echoed outside.

Morning Sky turned back to the stick in his hands, and shifting one up, letting out one last hiccup as he slammed his palm onto the button.

The explosions that rocked Nyon covered the youngling’s screams.


	7. Chapter 7

The place was just as destroyed as Vos had been. Heaving a heavy vent, Kup walked through the wreckage. He had the other wreckers spread out, searching for any signs of possible survivors. So far there hasn’t been a blip on any of their radars. With another exvent and a grunt, Kup hefted himself over a mound of rubble, sliding down on the incline on the other side.

Planting his hands on his hips, the old bot took in more of the destruction littering the city when a noise reached his audials. Shifting his cigar to the other side of his mouth, Kup turned toward the noise and walked toward it. There was a hole in one of the buildings, a decently large hole that was big enough to fit a mech his size, or even Springer’s. Surprisingly the structure it was hidden by, hadn’t collapsed more than it already had.

He still had to crouch down to look inside. And once he did, his optics flared in surprise. _Oh, frag._ Dried energon surrounded a gray frame, one that he could barely recognize as a flier by what was left of the wings, and huddled into the frame. He dragged a hand down his faceplate. He wasn’t fit to deal with this slag. But he wasn’t going to leave the kid there.

Moving closer, he looked in. “Hey. Kid, can ya hear me?” A sad jumble of chirps and trills were his only answer. Kup grunted again before moving to step in when teary blue optics turned toward him. A shrill scream left the kid, and Kup barely noticed the steam rising from the kid’s plating before flames burst from the tiny thing.

Kup let out a yelp of his own as he reeled back, gun falling from his hand as he stumbled and fell as his ped got caught on the scattered rumble.

“WHAT THE FRAG!?”

He spewed more foul words as he struggled up, finally managing to get to his peds just as the flames died and loud crying echoed through the area. Snatching up his gun, Kup stepped back to the opening and stared inside. The kid was still steaming, smoke wisping around as sobs wracked the small frame. The blue he could make out on the helm and wings were almost gone, a shade of yellow slowly creeping over even as he watched.

Primus, he really wasn’t cut out for this slag.

“KUP!”

Rubble rolled down as Springer came barrelling over, sliding to a stop by the older mech. “Primus Kup, you alright?”

“Fine, just got something we’d be taking back with us.” He kept his optics glued on the sobbing child, frown deepening as the color nanites finally finished recoloring the helm and wings. There weren't many records of mech’s changing colors like that just because their nanites wanted to, they were usually painted.

The only time nanites changed a mechs color was as a precautionary protection.

That was a cube he didn’t want to pry open.

“Looks like we’re taking in another stray Springer.”

The larger mech made a noise as he looked at where Kup started walking, a harsh noise leaving his intake at the sight of the bitlit. His knee joints creaked as he knelt down and held out a hand.

“Hey kid, come ‘ere. We’ll take ya out of ‘ere, yeah?”

Another hiccup as the bitlit looked up, coolant tears covering the tiny faceplate. Kup cooed as the bitlit crawled over and lifted its arms. He picked the kid up, ignoring how hot the still cooling plating was. Kup turned and raised an optic ridge at Springer’s expression.

“We’ve picked up one stray already, we’re taking this one too. I ain’t leaving ‘im ‘ere.”

“That’s not what I was going to say. Does the kid even have a name?” Springer took Kup’s gun from where he had it under his arm and attached it to the mech’s hip before falling into step as they made their way over the pile of rubble.

“If he doesn’t, ‘is name’s Hot Rod now.”


	8. Chapter 8

With the rest of the search a lost cause, they started the trek back to their ship. Springer kept glancing at the bitlit as he chirruped in Kup’s arms. The older mech didn’t seem to mind, Springer was just glad the kid wasn’t crying and screaming anymore. He let out, what he hoped was, a quiet groan at the thought of youngling they already had on board.

Primus, please let them get along.

The rest of the team was already at the ship, a few of them lounging outside as they waited. A pink and white form appeared at the top of the ramp, “Kup! Springer!” the youngling femme jumped down the ramp, launching herself at Springer’s middle. He let out on ‘ooph’ but managed to keep his ground.

“Hey kid, Kup found a friend for you.”

That got the others' attention, the rest of the team coming out to surround them and taking in the bright splash of color Kup was holding. The femme climbed up Springer, ignoring his protests, to get a better look.

“It’s small.”

“‘Course he’s small. He’s just a bitlit Arcee. Much younger than ya are.” Kup chuckled as he bounced Hot Rod, the bitlit looking around at all the new faces.

Arcee pouted, “What’s his name?”

“Kup decided to name him Hot Rod.” Springer groused as he grabbed Arcee and held her so she wasn’t digging her knee plate into his shoulder armor.

A few huffs of laughter echoed from the surrounding mechs, “Really Kup? Why did ya have to name the kid that?”

Kup glared at the mech, shoving his way past them all to head up the ramp. “If he ever does it again, y’all find out.”

Arcee was quick to take on the role of bigger sister. Taking care of and watching Hot Rod when the adults were busy. She also became extremely protective and had started to demand the older bots to finally teach her how to defend herself, physically and with weapons. Kup just laughed when he had walked into her yelling and lecturing a few of them before calming down and ordering that they do what she says.

Kup himself taught her a few things himself.

He almost blew an internal component laughing so hard when he saw her take down Springer. That femme was going to be a force to reckon with once she hit mechhood.

He couldn’t be prouder of the femme. She was close to mechhood, and had gained multiple skills to the point Kup was confident in her skills to allow her on the battlefield. Much to Springer’s chagrin.

And Hot Rod? He absolutely _adored_ Arcee. If he wasn’t clinging to her kibble and toddling after her, he was attached to Kup. He didn’t like the others, a fact that confused Kup but he shrugged it off. At least he was getting the kid acclimated to Springer so he could be left in the larger mechs care if it was required.

The kid wasn’t his. Kup knew that, but it didn’t stop him from being proud of the progress as he grew. Springer, on the other hand, wasn’t happy about how much of a brat Hot Rod was growing up to be. But the kid was still young, he was still small, and not even old enough to have an altmode register inside his processor.

The kid was sweet, but the old bot couldn’t help feeling that there was _something_ he was missing. Especially during the times Hot Rod grew quiet or started crying and clinging.

He knew it had something to do with the names he always repeated. A Moss and Fly, whoever those two might be. Kup had a bad feeling that at least one of those shortened names belonged to the grayed flier he found Hot Rod with.

They were working through it though, and Hot Rod slowly started not to breakdown within days. The kid was safe and cared for, not healthy, but cared for and that’s all they could hope for.

Of course, that was when slag had to hit the engines so to speak.


	9. Chapter 9

The rebellion soon wasn’t just a rebellion anymore. It was a war.

Kup and his group quickly became known as the Wreckers, taking on the jobs that were guaranteed for deactivation. It was a tough and dangerous job, but most of them still prevailed. Springer and Arcee were a few of the best. Even though their jobs usually meant leaving Hot Rod on the ship alone, the kid was smart and was quick to hide in spaces that they weren’t able to get into.

It was one of the jobs they were sent to do, one of the planets was a Decepticons stronghold and the Autobots either wanted it or to just remove the enemies presence. Kup wasn’t sure, he didn’t ask much after getting the needed details of the job and what they were dealing with.

Once landed, Kup had ordered Arcee to stay within distance of the ship much to her complaints about being capable of joining them. He got her to listen by pointing out that Hot Rod was vulnerable and would be left alone while the rest of them went after the cons. The femme relented after that fact was pointed out.

While the rest of them prepared to head out, Arcee took off to check the perimeter. The old bot didn’t miss the look Springer shot her as she disappeared. Lips twitching around his cigar, Kup gave him the order to make sure to get an open comm with her and be ready to race back if she didn’t help.

Springer gave a curt nod and they headed out.

And it was exactly what Kup expected. A vicious fight that ended with the cons gushing energon from their wounds and sparks snuffed out. The stronghold was theirs.

They were making sure there were no survivors and scavenging what viable items they could when all their comms crackled to life, Kup froze, gaze zeroing in on Springer as he saw the bigger mech stiffen and the blades on his back flare before settling on twitching repeatedly.

“I need backup! A mech went on board and Hot Rod is still in there!”

Kup swore as Springer transformed into his helicopter alt and took off before Arcee even finished. He transformed as quickly as he could and gunned his engine to follow. Thank Primus they had been working their way closer to the ship so it didn’t take long before Kup was within sight.

He slammed on his breaks, wheels skidding as he turned the slide into a transformation to land by Springer. He hefted his gun, Arcee’s and Springer’s whirling with charge as they aimed their weapons at the deep red seeker standing across from them. Hot Rod was held carefully in his arms, the sparkling looking extremely confused.

At least he wasn’t crying.

Kup took the stalemate to take in the situation; Arcee was favoring a leg that looked as if it had a deep gash and was pouring energon at a steady rate, the seeker looked the worse off. Both wings had multiple holes, most likely having stopped him from flying off, and multiple points of his body were spilling energon into a slowly growing puddle at his peds.

The light purple optics glaring at them put Kup on edge, though he couldn’t place _why._

His optics flickered toward his companions as they both growled, Arcee’s voice rumbling darkly as she spoke, “Give him back you slagheap.”

The seeker laughed, energon spilling down his chin as his face split into a grin of broken denta stained with energon and optics blazing white, “You can’t keep him from his heritage forever. Our Lord will find him and return him to his rightful carrier. This child is Vos’ future and you can’t keep him away from it.”

Springer’s rotor started up, blades starting to spin slowly, as they watched the seeker bring Hot Rod close to press his lips against the round helm before lowering the kid to the ground. He stood back up, revealing the giant gash splitting his chestplate.

The soft blue glow of a spark pulsed through the injury.

The seeker scowled, stepping around Hot Rod as he flared his wings at them. Kup prepared to shoot, letting out a noise as the seeker lunged at them, the burst of noise as thrusters were activated quickly had the seeker covering the distance and slamming into Springer. The two rolled around, both snarling and ripping at plating.

Arcee ran across the distance, hooking her weapon on her leg before sweeping Hot Rod off the ground and holding him close. Kup positioned himself in front of them, gun still trained even though he doubted he would need it with Springer being the seeker’s opponent.

It was still a vicious fight, with claws and brute force. It ended fairly quickly with the seeker trying to get on Springer’s back but the triple-changer used it to his advantage and started up his rotor, his blades catching in the gash on the seeker’s chest and ripping right through and cutting him in half.

Springer stood up, energon splattered all over his frame to stare down at the now deactivated seeker. He turned away, not even noticing the rest of the Wreckers had gathered together at the entrance of the ship, to walk toward Kup and Arcee. The two older mechs shared a look as before they turned their attention to Hot Rod.

What the slag were they supposed to do with this new information?


	10. Chapter 10

The knowledge they got that day was kept between three of them; Kup, Arcee, and Springer. They were the only three that continued to survive over the thousands of years as the war dragged on. Members were killed and replaced over that time, but none were told the secret in case they were captured instead of killed. They couldn’t let that information go, not when the three of them feared for Hot Rod’s life.

There was no guarantee that he would be left alive if they gave him up to the seekers, especially with the majority having sided with the Decepticons, and they sure as slag wasn’t testing it.

In that time, Hot Rod had grown into a, as Springer liked to say, a reckless brat who wasn’t allowed on the battlefield unless he was looking for a death wish. It led to them arguing often and Hot Rod whining about not being allowed to join them on their missions.

Which was unjustified in Kup’s opinion, they let the kid go with them. Just not out on the ones that could end with them dead. Arcee would never forgive them if he allowed it and he wasn’t about to get on the femme’s bad side, not with how good she had gotten.

Kup was almost positive she would be going out on her own once she stopped hovering over Hot Rod, that or they’d encounter the dangerous team Elita-1 led and she’d go with them for a while. He wasn’t too concerned over what would happen with her.

Hot Rod on the other hand. The kid still had a lot of growing up to do and Kup wasn’t likely to let the kid go off on his own. He was hard-pressed to even let the kid go if they met up with any other Autobots, though they’d be a better option to care for the kid then the Wreckers were with their dangerous missions and all.

But at least he had an altmode and surprise surprise, it was a racer’s alt. Not that much of a surprise to the older mech, though it did seem to surprise the others a bit more.

Bunch of moronic youngins is what they are.

“Kup! Look at this!”

The old bot turned from talking to a few of the newbies they were adding to watch Hot Rod lift up his arms and, okay he wasn’t expecting that. Flames shot out from the pipes on the kid’s arms, spreading wide and searing heat as far out as to where he stood. The glow of the flames highlighted the magenta of the youngster’s frame, turning it shades darker before the flames died down.

Pipes still smoking, Hot Rod lowered his arms and turned to Kup with a giant grin as his spoiler rose high and flapped in excitement.

“Good job kid! Why don’t you go show Springer? Might do him some good if you roast his aft a bit!”

Hot Rod laughed before taking off, diving into a transformation to go find Springer, and in turn Arcee, as the two had taken off to get violent with each other. He shook his helm, he’d never understand those two.

“Oooh feisty, I wanna have a go at him.” The clicking of claws had Kup turning and glaring at the empurata victim, as he tapped his claws together and watched as Hot Rod drove off.

“Not a chance, kid’s off-limits. Unless ya wanna deal with Springer and Arcee on your afts.”

The whine that left the vocalizer didn’t deter him from changing his mind. Shifting his cigar to the other side of his mouth, Kup planted his knuckles on his hips as he looked them both over.

“Alright, you two. Designations, altmodes, and talents. Need to know if I’m keepin’ ya or handing ya off to another squadron.”


	11. Chapter 11

Hot Rod raced across the landscape, kicking up dust and swerving around outcroppings as he tuned into Springer’s and Arcee’s signals. They were close and he hoped he could surprise them by roasting Springer’s aft with his new move. A flash of white had the youngster skidding to a stop. Quickly transforming, Hot Rod tilted his helm, spoiler flapping in curiosity.

Ignoring the possibility of danger, the magenta youngling headed toward the bright color, “Hello? Someone there?”

He let out a high yelp as he was slammed into, the glint of a blade slamming beside his head as another pressed against his energon lines and forcing his helm back. The mech above him froze before scrambling off him, sliding the two blades into scabbards on his hips.

Hot Rod sat up and stared with wide optics at the white mech, the organic world they were on had covered some of the white and turned it gray. Jumping up, Hot Rod slid closer with a grin, ignoring the blades attached to the taller mechs hips.

“Hi! I’m Hot Rod, who are you? Are you here to see Kup? If you’re here to join the Wreckers he’s the one you need to talk to. Come on I can show you where he’s at, or you can come with me to grab Springer and Arcee. They wandered off earlier and Kup wants me to roast Springer’s aft.” Hot Rod rambled, reaching out and grabbing the cringing mech’s hand and dragging him off.

The white mech let out a surprised noise at the sudden tug, optics wide as he watched the rambling mech as he tugged him along.

_Oh, Primus, what did he just get into?_

Hot Rod looked back, “So what’s your designation?”

“Drift.”

The shorter bots optics were glowing as bright as the smile on his faceplate and it almost had Drift melting. Primus must have it out for him, sending him to meet this angel. It didn’t stop him from cringing as he replayed the smaller bots words to actually understand what he had quickly said.

The Wreckers. He found the _Wreckers_ , he was as good as dead if they didn’t give him a chance.

“Cool! Can I call you Drifter? That’d be a cool nickname right?” Hot Rod started rambling again.

Drift just accepted it, making sure to try to keep up with what the other was saying as he continued to be dragged along. Hopefully, the smaller speedster was taking him to who was in charge and not to those other two he mentioned. The ex-Decepticon would gladly deal with the leader, or who was determined as the leader, of the Wreckers than deal with ones that were quick to attack him without a chance to explain himself.

As long as Drift kept to lessons Wing had drilled into his head and kept his patience to not be antagonized into attacking first, he should be fine. Hopefully.

It didn’t take as long as Drift thought it would, to get to where a few mechs were standing, though that could easily be the distraction that Hot Rod was giving with his spewing of glyphs. The white speedsters optics took in the older looking mech who watched them walk up, arms crossed and a scowl on his face. There was a red mech and — was that an empurata victim? He thought that wasn’t even possible anymore unless it was from before the Decepticons leveled the senate’s rule.

“Kid,” the old teal mech growled, “who the frag is that with ya?”

Hot Rod beamed, “This is Drift! I think he’s here to join but he was wondering out in the dirt.”

Drift didn’t know how to feel about this mech, but it was very close to how the old mech was feeling. The annoyed groan was definitely a good enough indication.

“Primus kid! You can’t just bring around random mechs if ya don’t know ‘em!”

“Yeah kid, who knows if that’s a Decepticon.” The empurata’s optic went half-moon as he clacked his claws and cackled.


	12. Chapter 12

Drift had been dragged off by the older mech, Hot Rod ordered to _stay put or Primus help me I’ll ground you for orns_ , much to the whining that followed them. For an ancient mech, he sure didn’t seem affected by his frame’s age. Considering he must have been one of the ones in charge of the Wreckers, it didn’t surprise Drift too much.

They entered a storage room, the teal mech walking over to a crate and leaning against it as he watched him.

“Name’s Kup, don’t mind Hot Rod. He’s still a kid and doesn’t seem to care about the danger he could be in talking to a random mech he comes across.” Kup took out his cigar and pointed it at Drift.

“And that better not get out. We don’t need Decepticons, much less other Autobots to know about how young the kid is. Who knows what they’d do ta him if they found out.”

Finials tilted up, not tell other Autobots?

“Why not tell other Autobots about him? I understand keeping it from the Decepticons, but form your own allies?”

“’Cause I know not all Autobots are good. Look at us, we’re Wreckers. We go in, kill and leave. Many don’t know how bad things actually are with us but I know there’s worse out there in our ranks and they ain’t getting a hold of the kid. Not with the knowledge we do have on ‘im.”

Drift’s finials slanted back, Primus. The kid was actually a _kid_ , how did the Wreckers manage to find a gestated mech? And how old was Hot Rod actually? Kup made it sound like he was on the cusp of being called a youngling.

The ex-Decepticon frowned but nodded, “Understood.”

Kup stared at him for a bit longer, “You wanna join the Wreckers? Couldn’t hurt to have more mechs with us. Hot Rod likes you well enough and I doubt many other teams I could send ya to would be so open ta ya with a past in the Decepticons.”

His optics flashed as he glared, lip pulling back to show a sharp canine at the smug smirk on Kup’s faceplate.

“That’s right kid. I know _exactly_ what ya were. The other’s will find out too if ya decide to stay.”

Steam billowed out through the gaps in his armor as Drift flared his plating, still snarling at Kup with a stiff posture. The mech was right. He could stay or he could go. Either way, he had to stick with the Autobots and whatever group he was with would find out he once helped the Decepticons.

What good would he do thrown at a different squadron? He could be more useful with the Wreckers. His skills with a blaster if he had to, and his skills with the blade would help out immensely.

Fixing his posture so he stood straighter, Drift stared straight at Kup.

“I want to serve the Autobots. And I want to be placed under your command.”

The smirk that slowly stretched across Kup’s faceplate was all the answer he needed.


	13. Chapter 13

In short order, Drift soon had an Autobot brand slapped onto his chest and was introduced to the other two newcomers still standing outside and tolerating the youngling’s rambling as he moved around them. The ex-Con almost smirked as he felt the aura of the red mech, an aura that sang with a weariness that matched the look on his faceplate. The empurata copter was just amused, even his field was teeking with it as he watched and clicked his claws together. A huff from beside him had him glancing over to the scowling old mech.

“Hot Rod! Get ‘ur aft over here kid!”

The youngling froze before darting over and practically magnetizing himself to Kup’s side. His spoiler was flapping, reminiscent of the seekers he’s met. He dragged his optics away as Kup introduced him to the other two mechs. Perceptor and Whirl. Drift already didn’t trust Whirl and hoped it didn’t stop him from leaving the empurata copter during any fights. He was more curious over the red mech, Perceptor didn’t hold himself like a soldier.

Which means the mech would need training. But to be put with the Wreckers? What were the higher-ups _thinking_ sending him here?

They all looked to the side as engines sounded along with a — was that a motor? Drift didn’t think they actually had a flight-capable mech on the team. It didn’t take long for two speed framed vehicles to come racing into view, dust billowing up behind them. A helicopter flew above them, rotors spinning fast as he overtook them and made it first.

The mech transformed in the air, dropping with a massive _thud_ onto the ground. The youngling unmagnetized himself from Kup, shooting himself at the green mech with a loud cry of “Springer!” The two went down with a clang just as the other two slid to a stop.

The blue mech laughed as he walked around the tangle of limbs. The pink femme just smirked and shook her helm, fists on her hips as she looked down at the two.

Drift glanced over as Kup grunted from beside him, “Alright kid, get offa ‘im. They need ta meet the new crew members.”

Hot Rod pouted but got off anyways, laughing as he dodged a swipe from the larger green mech. He danced away, hugging the pink femme before dashing back over and latching onto his arm.

The white mech stiffened, hand twitching to grab against his sword as the youngling gripped his arm and leaned against his side. What in Primus did this youngling think he was doing? Did he have no self-preservation???

He must not have been the only one thinking it, as he caught Kup watching them with narrowed optics and a deeper frown hidden by his cigar.

It didn’t stop Drift from noticing the looks the three mechs shared and aimed at him.

“Alright, Springer, Arcee, and Blurr. You three be nice to the newcomers, Whirl, Perceptor, and Drift. They’re on the team now until I decide to boot them to another squadron.” Kup pointed to them all each in turn before crossing his arms and waiting.

The three shared a look again before Blurr stepped forward, “Nice-to-meet-you-mechs. Hope-you-last-long-enough-and-don’t-die-on-us.” He spoke fast but flashed them a grin before taking off with a salute at Kup.

Kup huffed, narrowing his optics at Springer and Arcee before they looked at Drift, where Hot Rod was still latched on and engine purring quietly.

“Now don’t try ta kill each other. And don’t _you two_ try any slag.”


	14. Chapter 14

When Drift booted up from recharge his systems quickly cycled on as a light-weighted presence registered against his armor. The aura beside him was calm and flowing gently, looking down had the ex-con see why. Hot Rod was pressed against his side, somehow sliding under his arm and curling in the crook of his elbow, deep in recharge. His vents softly gusted against his armor with each exvent.

Oh, Primus, this wasn’t good.

If the senior Wreckers saw this he was as good as deactivated. Or made to suffer through Unicron’s pit.

And there was _no way_ he was moving and waking the youngling up. That would just get him even further on their slag list.

Huffing softly, Drift offlined his optics and set to meditate. Lying prone on the ground wasn’t exactly ideal but at least he had a calm aura instead of one rioting. Hot Rod’s aura and field helped lull him into his meditation and he was soon lost in it. A shuffle against his side was what finally brought him up and he cycled his optics a few times only for them to shoot up and his plating to flare at the sight in his vision.

_Oh. Frag._

The big green triple changer was glaring from the doorway, thickly plated arms crossed across his chest with a sneer on his faceplate. It took a few kliks for his audials to work enough to hear the low hissing next to him. The aura had darkened and the calm field was no spiking with annoyance and anger as Hot Rod hissed something unintelligible at Springer.

Drift had no idea if Springer could even hear what the youngling was saying if he couldn’t, or if it was just angry youngling noises. He really didn’t want to get in the middle of it, either way, so he stayed still hoping that Springer would leave or Hot Rod would move and take the triple changer with him.

Neither of those happened.

Instead, a sudden resounding clanging _thwack_ resounded as Springer stumbled forward, keeling down and holding the back of his helm. Kup stood in the now vacant spot, hand still raised from smacking the larger mech. His expression held annoyance and in no way was the older mech amused.

“Slaggit Kup! What was that for!?”

Kup just grunted and let out a puff of smoke, “That’s for not listenin’ to me earlier you punk. Told ya ta leave ‘em be.”

Springer just growled from where he was still hunched over, deciding not to give a verbal reply as he continued to hold his helm.

The angry hissing had trailed off, the angry turning of Hot Rod’s engine and his field the only things giving him away. Well, that and the dark expression on his faceplate as he glowered at Springer. The youngling rolled off the recharge slab and grabbed Drift’s arm, hauling the bigger mech up and dragging him past the other mechs. Drift was quick to snatch his swords before Hot Rod got him too far away from the slab, quickly sliding them into place even as he tried to keep up with the youngster.

He didn’t dare speak, not until they were a distance from his quarters and Hot Rod’s field aura wasn’t so dark. His field was still tinged with damped anger but it was slowly dissipating to a low simmering feeling.

“Hot Rod? Rodi? You okay?” Drift kept his voice low in case Hot Rod wasn’t up to talking but it seemed to do the trick. The youngling stopped, his tight grip on Drift’s arm loosening and going slack. Drift didn’t let the hand fall far, catching it in his own and linking their servos together.

Hot Rod rubbed his arm across his face before tilting his head back with a smile on his face, “Yeah, come on. Let’s go grab our ration.”

Drift frowned as he was dragged off. The kid definitely wasn’t alright, he wouldn’t be surprised if it had anything to do with how the green triple changer was treating him. It would be a mystery for another time though. For now, he had to focus on what was required of him.


	15. Chapter 15

Arcee glared at Blurr, the speedster just staring back at her with a raised optic ridge as his hand ran up and down Hot Rod’s back. The youngster was on his lap, turned away with his face pressed into Blurr’s chest. Springer sat off to the side, helm turning back and forth between them as he waited for something to happen. He was seriously debating on getting Kup before Arcee decided to attack Blurr, but he doubted she would with Hot Rod in his lap.

Didn’t stop him from thinking he should still do it. The situation was already terrible, what with Arcee’s decision to just leave them. It would hurt them, yeah, but Springer already knew this was bound to happen. Arcee was going off and doing missions by herself more often than not and coming back each time with barely any injuries.

The crush he had on her was not something he was going to bring up, no sir.

Springer let out a gust from his vents as he continued watching them. He wished Arcee waited to tell them she was going to be heading out on her own. Preferably when Kup was here instead of out with the three new ones doing an easy mission to help get them used to their line of work. Kup would know what to do, especially with making Hot Rod talk instead of hideaway from the situation.

The triple changer was just glad Hot Rod couldn’t go hide in a vent or something again due to where they were at, meaning no ship to go running into and hiding. Unfortunately, that now meant he was going to latch onto either him or Blurr and keep his back to the problem. This time Blurr got chosen as his blockade. Springer wasn’t surprised, he reacted more strongly to Arcee’s decision than Blurr did.

The blue speedster hadn’t said a word and was the first to open his arms and let out a comforting field when Hot Rod’s face started to twist in a varying degree of emotions.

Now they were at a standstill.

Springer kept his field close but wrapped around Arcee’s to keep the anger flaring in hers away from Hot Rod. Blurr thankfully had his field wrapped around the youngster, though it didn’t stop the riot of emotions from the still young and uncontrolled field from buffeting against their own. He really hoped Kup would return soon, the older mech would know how to diffuse the situation and would, no doubt, drag both Arcee and Hot Rod off separately to talk to them both.

“What the slag are you kids doing?!”

Thank Primus.

Springer turned to Kup, giving a pleading look to the older mech. Kup took in the situation, before zeroing his optics on Arcee, “You, with me now.”

He spun on his heel and marched off, Arcee glaring one last time at Blurr before trudging after Kup.

It didn’t take them long to reach where Kup wanted them to, the storage room. He leaned against one of the many stacks of crates, staring at the pink femme as he puffed on his cigar.

“Wanna explain to me what’s going on lass? Ya not usually willing to throw down when Hot Rod’s in the way.”

Arcee shifted, crossing her arms and looking away from Kup. It took only kliks before she caved and marched up to him. Wrapping her arms around him, she buried her helm in his chest, the tension from her frame loosening as he wrapped an arm around her as well.

The silence stretched on. Arcee’s engine finally slowed to a normal rumble compared to the loud, angry sputtering it was doing earlier when he had arrived back.

“I’m leaving.”

“Hn, that doesn’t surprise me, kid. Knew ya were going to go off on your own one o’ these days.”

Arcee pulled back to look up at the older mech, the mech that had taken part in raising her for this long, “You really expected it? But —”

Her optics cycled at the huff Kup let out, “Wasn’t forged yesterday, kid. I knew one day you’d leave, after all, I didn’t get you out of that place just for you to not want to go deal with the issue after you were capable of being on your own.”

Kup removed his arm and brought his hands up to cup Arcee’s face, “Now, I bet you telling ‘em hurt Hot Rod. So you better talk to him before you take off. I don’t need any of you leaving with bad energon between you all. The four of us became a family kid. Don’t go breaking it alright?”

Arcee bit her lip and nodded, slamming the short distance into Kup to wrap him in a tight hug. The force had his vents bursting out a large gust of air, but he hugged her back. He wasn’t looking forward to one of his kids leaving. But he knew it had to happen.

Now he just hoped the other kids knew this was meant to be.


	16. Chapter 16

Kup had debated on leaving Arcee in the storage room but decided on bringing her back out with him. She could talk to Blurr and Springer while he talked to Hot Rod and figure things out there. A different talk would be needed with Hot Rod but Kup wanted to talk to him first and get him to understand what was going on.

Entering back into the clearing had Kup pulling to a stop, Arcee bumping into his arm as she stopped as well. The old mech raised an optic ridge at the sight before him, looking at Springer and Blurr who both looked back and shrugged. Turning back to where Drift had sat down with Hot Rod perched on his lap. The two had their hands together and Kup could make out the fast movements of the ex-Con’s servos followed by the slower movements of Hot Rod’s servos as he copied the movements.

That wasn’t something the old mech was expecting to see from Drift. There weren’t many mechs who knew chirolinguistics, much less knew it as advanced as he was witnessing. He watched them for a bit longer, barely taking notice of Springer and Blurr getting up and moving away with Arcee trailing after them. Kup waited until he couldn’t hear their steps before walking over to Drift and Hot Rod, causing the white mech to stop and curl his hands over the smaller orange ones in his grip.

The expression on his faceplate and in his optics were easy signs for Kup to notice of a mech about to flee after thinking they’ve done something wrong. Teaching chirolinguistics wasn’t something he was going to scold the white mech for though. It would do Hot Rod good to learn a new skill.

Kup raised an optic ridge at Drift but he could already tell the older speedster wasn’t moving. And if the change of Hot Rod’s grip that he caught was any indication, the youngling wasn’t going to let Drift leave either. Primus, how did these two get attached so quickly? A mystery for another day.

Joints creaking as he sat, Kup leaned against the rock placed behind him and let out a heavy vent. “Alright kid. We gotta talk. Then ya gonna have to talk to Arcee.”

“Don’t wanna.”

“Too bad. She doesn’t want to leave with you upset at her. Much less being mad at you about it. So listen closely.” Kup leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees as he stared at Hot Rod, “Arcee was going to leave us at some point. She has to do this Hot Rod. I found her in some kinda lab and whatever happened in there messed her up and the frame she got put in had to grow up just like you are. But she’s older now, old enough to leave and she now has the skills to deal with what’s been haunting her.”

Kup paused, taking another vent as he waited for Hot Rod to think through what he’s currently said.

“So she has to leave to go beat up the person who was mean to her?” Hot Rod looked confused as he asked but looked at Kup for confirmation.

“Basically. She can’t let it go and she thinks she’s gonna hurt one of us if she stays any longer.”

Hot Rod still didn’t look happy about it but he nodded. Kup shook his helm as Hot Rod let himself drop forward, forehelm thudding against Drift’s chestplate, and just staying there. At least he got somewhere. Now it was up to Arcee to try to clear the air further.


	17. Chapter 17

Blurr leaned against one of the many crates lining the storage room Arcee led them to. The femme had leaned slightly against a crate of her own and Springer was just standing awkwardly to the side. He waited to see if anyone was going to speak up first but it was quickly obvious that wasn’t going to happen. So being the bigger mech, or in this case, the one that would have to actually try to speak slowly so none of them threw fists and started a brawl in such a cramped space.

“Okay. I’ll try to speak slowly even though this sucks.”

Arcee and Springer both looked at him. A tight expression surrounding Arcee’s optics and mouth, and Springer just looking lost.

“So you’re leaving?”

Arcee nodded, “I am.”

“Okay, why? Does this have anything to do with your random bursts of anger or whatever you want to call them?” Blurr waved a hand around, optics pinned straight on Arcee and daring her to try to tell him that wasn’t the reason when he was positive it was.

She stared right back, not backing down from what she was sure was an accusation. “It is. The outbursts are getting worse. You both know this. It’s alright for me on the battlefield but I can’t fall into that around the rest of you when we have downtime. I definitely can’t do that around Hot Rod.”

The two mechs shared a look, knowing she was right and there was little they could do to help.

Blurr inclined his head for Springer to talk.

“You know we’re gonna miss you right?” For such a big mech, he sounded almost nervous.

Arcee’s lip twitched, “I know. But you know I have to do this. I can’t not go chasing after what caused this in the first place. Not when I remember and feel that rage each time I just think about it.” Her voice had darkened as she talked and a sneer was quick to twist her face.

Blurr didn’t really understand it but he understood having to go go go. And he for one wasn’t going to stop her from running after whatever it was she had to hunt down.

It was Springer who broke the silence that fell on them this time, “We’re going to miss you. You know that right?”

Blurr couldn’t look at Springer, not when he knew what kind of face he would be making just from that sad tone alone. He wasn’t looking at either of them when Arcee sighed, he heard her move closer to them and her embracing Springer.

“I know Spring, if I still function after I deal with my problem, I’ll come find you guys.”

“And if we don’t survive?” Blurr softly asked, gazing at his embracing friends.

“If that happens, I better hear it from someone.”

Blurr clicked his glossa, “If you even can. Alright. I think it’s time you talk to Hot Rod now.”

Arcee pulled away from Springer with a sigh and a nod, “I know. Think he’ll actually listen to me?”

“Debatable, but Kup hopefully got something through that processor of his. Might as well go check right?” Blurr walked past them with a flap of his hand in a beckoning gesture.

When they returned to where the other three were left, they found Drift gone. But Hot Rod was still there, sitting sideways in Kup’s lap and pouting. The three honestly couldn’t tell if it was because of the situation they found themselves in or because Kup was retelling one of the less gruesome tales of his for the hundredth time.

Springer and Blurr went and settled themselves a distance from them in an effort to give them some privacy.

Arcee continued forward to crouch before Kup and Hot Rod, shoulders slumping at the glance and head turn she got from Hot Rod.

“Hot Rod, please. I don’t want to leave but I have to, I can’t put you all at risk because of this.” Arcee practically pleaded, not being able to tell him much and hoping Kup explained it so she didn’t have to try.

A nudge from Kup actually had the youngster peaking at Arcee out of the corner of his optic, “You promise you’ll come back when you’ve figured it all out?”

She exvented, partially in relief, partially in uncertainty, “You know that’s a promise I can’t keep. What I can promise you is, if I do survive this, I’ll come find you. How’s that?”

Hot Rod hummed, dropping back and forcing Kup to catch him to make sure he didn’t go tumbling off his lap. “Okay, I’ll take that. BUT! We have to pile together tonight. Just the five of us.”

They all shared a look.

Kup chuffed a laugh, “I don’t see a problem with that.”


	18. Chapter 18

Not having Arcee around made everything seem off. Hot Rod was still getting used to not having her around. She had been such a big part of his life so far that he still fell into the habit of just talking to her to fill the silence. He didn’t get further than opening his mouth before he remembered she wasn’t there. Springer felt it too, he was the only other one Hot Rod noticed was as affected by her leaving as he was. Blurr and Kup had a better handle on it. Hot Rod was sure it was because they were older than them.

Kup kept them busy though, Hot Rod with chores and both with practice. And it was only days after Arcee took off that they moved off themselves. Off to another planet to do whatever Kup, Springer, and Blurr (and previously Arcee) did while they left Hot Rod in the ship. And now there were three other newcomers to join them, well, technically two. Perceptor would be staying on the ship as it had been made clear the scientist wasn’t skilled enough to join them.

When he wasn’t in the room he made into a lab, Drift was often dragging him off for shooting practice. The youngling didn’t think much of how he even knew how to shoot so well, even considering how the white mech only had swords on his frame.

He liked Drift, even if the mech seemed oddly taken with him lately. (It couldn’t be a bad thing since Kup hasn’t separated them or banned them from being in close quarters yet.)

Now Whirl was a different story. Kup didn’t let them stay in the same room often and oftentimes sent him scurrying off somewhere whenever the spindly mech had to be present for something. Not like it mattered. Hot Rod didn’t understand half the things they talked about when they were discussing the next mission they were planning.

Hot Rod didn’t like Whirl much anyway. He was weird and liked to get in his face and click those claws at him. Kup had caught Whirl messing with him one day and _wow_ that was a scolding he ran away before hearing much more of it.

If there was one thing the mechs on their team learned quick, it was to _never_ piss Kup off.

He not only was the oldest but the one willing to put them in their place. Hot Rod remembered when Springer got in the old mech’s face and suddenly found himself slammed into the ground. It wasn’t funny then, but nowadays, they bring it up and laugh over the incident.

The youngster huffed a heavy sigh, bored optics staring at the barren land they were currently stationed at. Everyone was off doing _something_ , recon probably, not like Hot Rod was allowed to go with. Too young to do this, or do that. Stay on the ship and _stay hidden_. Kup had been drilling those words in his helm ever since he was able to actually understand them.

Having kept it quiet, he doubted Kup even knew that he remembered the incident with the red-winged mech. He had been _kind_ and didn’t even get mad when he had kicked him when he was pulled out of a vent. That mech was gone now though, would have been gone not long after anyways. He still remembered the glow of a spark and the feeling of energon against his plating as he was held.

What did that winged mech mean by heritage?

A question that would never be answered. Not by Kup, not by Springer, not even Blurr, and definitely not by Arcee now that she was gone. Hot Rod let out a groan as he rolled off his perch on top of a rock, no one would give him answers to anything that involved frame types and the like. He’ll just have to figure it out on his own one of these days.

Wait. Drift and Perceptor! One of them had to be willing to give him an answer.

His optics strayed to the ship. And Perceptor was in the ship and Kup _wasn’t_. Hot Rod grinned, pushing himself up and bolting to the ship.

He never made it.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I stole Blackout from Bayverse cause he doesn't exist in IDW.

Hot Rod didn’t even see it coming. He was running to the ship and the next thing he knew the ship was blowing up and something had grabbed him.

He clutched tightly to the mech’s plating, prying open his optics to see familiar blue. Hot Rod didn’t like the anger twisting the older mech’s faceplate or the darkened optics. He’s never seen Blurr so, so _angry_ before. Wait —

“PERC—! HMMP!” Hot Rod unlatched a hand to claw at Blurr’s, trying to get him to release his face.

“Shhh, quiet down. You’ve already been seen.” The fact that Blurr wasn’t talking fast had the youngling stop, optics looking up at the other speedster. Seen? What did he mean by that? Is that why the ship got shot?

“I’m going to uncover your mouth, and you better stay _quiet_ do you understand?”

Hot Rod nodded as best as he could. He sniffed, feeling optical fluid start to built up. “What about Perceptor?” His voice cracked, static lacing the words and he pressed close to Blurr. A hand ran soothingly over his helm as Blurr rumbled his engine softly

“He’s safe. He got the warning and got out ahead of that bomb.” Blurr clutched Hot Rod even tighter, crouching low to the ground. It was then that Hot Rod heard the noise over the other’s engine. It was the sound of copter blades, just like Springer and Whirl. He tried to push away but Blurr didn’t let him.

“That’s not our team.”

“Wha—”

The loud thud as a massive mech landed shook the ground, rattling loose pebbles from the rocks they were hiding behind. The steps were heavy, much heavier than Springer’s. The engine was different too, a lot louder and powerful sounding. There was more rustling of blades as well.

The youngling bit his lip, trying his hardest not to let out a whimper as those steps got closer to their location. He gasped as Blurr set him down, a finger to his lips keeping him from saying anything. Blurr watched him with darkened optics before glancing back up. He made a hand motion, the one Hot Rod was taught early on meant _“stay put and hidden”_ when speaking wasn’t possible.

Curling into himself, Hot Rod covered his audials and clenched his optics shut.

He felt Blurr shoot away. A loud clanging noise as plating collided together quickly echoing through the area. And it continued. Guns must have been brought out at some point because he started hearing gunfire. And it was too close, much too close to his hiding place for comfort. But Hot Rod didn’t move, he just curled into himself more, trying to make himself as small as possible.

A loud collision by him, had Hot Rod cracking open his optics to see what it was. Only for his optics to widen and his frame to freeze at the massive black mech staring at him. That red visor was bright but quickly darkened. He yelped as he tried to scramble away but a clawed hand latched onto his leg. He shouted in pain as those claws dug deep and scoured into his leg.

Optical fluid was spilling down his face as he cried and whimpered, it _hurt_. Energon was leaking out at a fast pace and Hot Rod was already feeling light helmed at the loss. He was dragged across the ground until he was closer to the massive mech. Hot Rod sobbed as those talons pulled out of his leg, whimpering as that hand wrapped around his chassis and lifted him off the ground as the mech stood up.

He dangled there, head hanging with flickering optics, and energon creating a puddle under him from his damaged leg. He couldn’t stop whimpering, soft, strangled noises leaving his vocalizer as he tried to call for Kup.

“Let go of him you slag heap.” Blurr’s voice was cold, his words slow and promising pain but the mech only had the gall to laugh.

One of those massive claws was brushed against his neck, sliding up to his chin to tilt his helm back. Optical fluid continued to spill without control as Hot Rod stared into that amused, red visor. He flinched and let out a high wine as a claw tip sliced across his face, just under his optics and causing more energon to spill from his frame. It mixed with the optical fluid, leaving light pink streaks trailing down his cheeks.

“Cute thing,” Blackout turned his gaze to Blurr, meeting the angry blues with a fanged grin, “maybe I’ll keep him.”

Blurr’s engine revved so loudly that a grinding _pop_ was heard as something shorted out. He bared his denta, knowing he wasn’t as intimidating as the much larger Decepticon, but it didn’t stop him from trying. He just had to keep the ‘Con from hurting Hot Rod any further, just long enough for the others to show up.

Blurr didn’t even hear the arrival, and Blackout mustn’t either as his shock was obvious through that visor as a rotary came diving at him. A quick transformation and a green ped slammed into the ‘Cons faceplate, cracking his visor.

“Blurr now!”

He didn’t waste time, moving before Springer had even finished yelling to snatch Hot Rod from the loosened grip. He slid to a stop on the other side of the clearing, hunching over and cradling the injured youngling to his chest. Blurr kept Hot Rod’s helm turned in, even as he watched Springer turn his blades into a dangerous weapon. The larger Wrecker didn’t even seem to be thinking as he repeatedly changed his rotors from a single blade to double blades.

The rotaries traded blows with Springer landing more hits than Blackout. Blurr wasn’t surprised, the triple-changer was as fragged off as one could be, especially to the point that he hadn’t said a word since yelling at him.

Blurr tensed as a field brushed his, optics flared as he looked over to see Kup crouched close by.

“It’s okay kid. I need to patch up Hot Rod, c’mon let me see his leg.”

Kup’s soothing voice calmed Blurr down only a bit as he allowed him access to the damaged limb. He still didn’t let go. Blurr didn’t want to watch, not when he could feel the twitches and small digits curling into gaps in his plating as Hot Rod tried to stifle the pained noises he was still making. Blurr’s attention had turned back to Springer, not even acknowledging the appearance of the others as he watched Springer go toe to toe with the larger Decepticon.

And he was winning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will chapters ever end up this long again? Who knows don't expect it though.

**Author's Note:**

> TBC....??????


End file.
